Next July - Next September - Next November - Next December

I cried, and disappeared. I was yelling, I was deaf. I didn’t see any way out. I could leave, sure, I laughed to myself. The sound was swallowed by my knees. My head hurts, I’m tired of this. I wonder, could I sleep? It’s a beautiful night, surely I could sleep. I am startled by a beam of light that pans across my face. Suddenly, I am lying on my back. I’m surrounded by myself. I say, weakly, to myself, “What do you know, that I don’t?” I get up onto my knees. I curl up, and try not to gag. I shake my head, “I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.” I try to stand. I stagger, but manage to stand. I turn around, and I walk back to Next July.

Next September

I call out, I can’t breathe. I’m drowning, I’m not wet. I shiver away my frozen tears in the midday summer sun. I taste blood in the warm breeze. I see myself, the taste drips from my lips, clawing/battling/ to escape. Myself gets closer, too close. I begin to vomit blood; myself disappears, and a Darkness devours me. I hear whispers, I hear a powerful light. My eyes are forced open, I can’t see. All I can see is a light, a light at the end of a tunnel. The tunnel is suffused with my screams, not my screams, my screams. The void of Darkness returns. I’m awake again, but still asleep. I fall to the ground, struggling not to gag. I stand back up, it’s agonizing. I hobble to the open door of an empty closet. I slowly close the door, and I walk back to Next September.

Next November

I hide in fear, I’m shrouded in galiant dreams. It has returned, the searing stares of ice crystal eyes. I’m paralyzed, I was running. The fear, it’s in the form of a physical dream; a nightmare. The dream, I cough, the nightmare that began a long time ago, immortal, undead, not alive. I pull out my weapon, my hands. I ask, “What have I created? How do I rid it of its corporeal existence?” The dream, the nightmare, the dragon finishes me with a final blow, knocking me onto my knees. I curl up and empty my soul; tears waterfall down my face. My tears frighten the dragon, its corporeal existence dies. I get back onto my knees. It’s gone, it’s really gone! For now. I stagger onto my feet, open the door to an empty closet, and I walk back to Next November.

Next December

I looked up, I began to float. My fears were gone, my fears are reborn. Awake, I was finally awake. The wind rippled the oceans, rustled the trees, freed my soul. I heard the clouds vaporize. I witnessed its rebirth. I watched in envy as the sun shone proudly in the sky. I wished I could be a star. A star that fights the Darkness with its illuminating light. What am I saying? I can’t possibly destroy myself. I saw it, I heard it, I felt it return. Myself had been reborn. It has been rebirthed from the sickening, petty, monstrous, dead, plagued heart of the dragon that tortured me. It drained me of my jubilant state. I could hear the screams of my skin turning pale. I was unable to hear what it was saying to me, I had become deaf. I was unable to see what it was doing, I had become blind. I was awoke by the sound of a beam of light panning across my face. The light gave me life. I absorbed the life from the light. I hunted down the sad, sick, dead deer that caused this. It was feasting on the corpses of its own demise. I held out my hands to myself. The my luminescent hands caused blindness and deafness to myself. I began to pet the midnight air around me, killing myself. I sucked the life out of the death. I became brighter and bright, illuminating the world. I began to float in the sky. I became so bright, even the Darkness that eternally infested the universe began to die. I became the light, the light that lit the universe, the light that made the universe eternally bright, nothing but light. I turned around. There was an open door to an empty closet. I walked into the closet, closed the door, and I walk back to Next December.

I honestly don't know what inspired me to write these poems. I guess I wrote these poems as I went. I thought of something, and wrote it down, and then I thought of something to go with it and continue the poem. Overall, I really loved how these came out. I tried to make the poems have meaning, multiple meanings, and I believe I succeded. I love writing poetry, and I believe this is my best.

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